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Alan was drawn by the smell. It tapped into some hard wired memories that he didn't quite understand, but he knew meant comfort. He stopped, leaning one hand against the wall to help balance himself while he tugged up one slouchy oversized knitted sock. Even with the extra support he still wobbled worryingly on one foot and he waited a few seconds for his balance to restore itself before starting to move again once both feet were back on the ground. Given the generally sluggish progress he was making down the corridor, a few seconds more wouldn’t hurt. He slid his feet on the hardwood, lacking the energy to lift them more than the bare minimum required for momentum.He wavered a little when he reached the top of the stairs into the lounge, the brightness of the glass ceiling doing an absolute number on his retinas and piercing into his brain like a laser. Wincing, Alan clung on to the handrail at the top of the stairway, sneezed, and gave some serious consideration to beating a quick retreat back to the darkened cave of his room. But the smell called to him, weaving its way inexplicably through his foggy sinuses and directly into his hardwiring. Comfort.Mentally and physically bracing himself, Alan peeled open one eye just enough to squint into the light and work out where the first step was. Once he had started it was just a case of keeping the shuffling momentum going and counting the number of steps, until he made it to ground level.Sudden inspiration hit, when he remembered he was wearing a hoodie, and he quickly pulled the hood up and over his head, shielding himself from the brightness by tugging the drawstring tight around his face so only a tuft of limp blond hair poked out. It improved the situation, but didn’t remove the problem completely, so Alan kept his head low and hobbled across the open space, sparing only a glance for the blanket burritoed form of his snoring brother on the couch. The scattered art materials were the only way of making a positive identification.By now Alan had made it to the stairs down to the kitchen, the source of the smell, still doing its best to draw him onwards. He had the process sorted now, and he made his way down one squinting step at a time into the relative comfort of the more shaded Kitchen.There on the kitchen island was a huge pan of cooling soup, it had probably been piping hot when Alan started his arduous journey, but he didn’t have the energy to worry about that now. He picked up a bowl and decanted a portion for heating up, then thinking again - he got a second bowl and a thermos pot. He zoned out whilst the microwave did its thing. The beeping made him jump so hard he nearly skittered to the floor in his slippy socks. Dragging his mind back to the present, he stared at the now warm bowl of soup. Something wasn’t quite right. Sure it was the right soup, but why wasn’t it quite hitting the right spot. He frowned at the soup, as it if would confess to its shortcomings. Alan wiped his clammy face across one forearm, and it came to him. It was all in the delivery. The soup should come with a soft caress to a feverish forehead and TOAST!Alan threw two slices of bread into the toaster, it didn’t want to stay down so he wedged it with a spatula, problem solving! Then he remembered the second bowl. Yes, Alan would be a good brother and make sure that John got some too, since he had been told to stay in space while the rest of them rode out this flu. Sloppily pouring the soup into the thermos, Alan twisted the lid on and bimbled, slightly distractedly to the elevator down to the hangars.He took the opportunity to rest his overly hot face against the cool metal of the interior during the ride down. Alan was in luck because the space elevator was already down, Brains and Max were in the process of packing it full of extra supplies to help see John through his extended isolation. Alan wedged his gift in amongst the boxes without getting noticed, and had just made it back to the domestic elevator when the island fire alarms started blaring, complete with flashing red lights that tore through Alans head like a superheated icepick. He whimpered and stood in a disorientated and slightly shivering mess until Brains caught sight of him and swept him out towards the hangar exit.But as quickly as it had started the all clear was called, specifically via Scott shouting over the tannoy “WHO WEDGED THE TOASTER ON?!”Alan gulped, remembering the spatula, and then fell into a coughing fit that had his eyes watering. Brains herded him back towards the lift and escorted him all the way to the lounge with a concerned hand at Alans elbow. Brains was muttering a constant stream of concerned nothings all the way.“Oh m-my, you should be resting, dear m-me, bed rest for sure, oh m-my, and some chai, yes, just like Nani made, that will help, oh dear.”Possession of Alan was transferred from Brains to anp probably equally concerned Scott. Although that concern was hidden by the liberal splattering of fire extinguisher foam across his shirt and face.Scott had just finished ordering Virgil, who was still wrapped in his blankets, back to his nest on the couch, when he turned to deal with Alan.Scott folded his arms across his chest, and took a deep breath.“So, toast?” He asked with one raised eyebrow.Alan also took a deep breath, looking for the same focusing ability it seemed to provide for Scott. Unfortunately, all it did was set off a hacking cough that left him swaying on his feet and the return of Brains hand on his elbow.“It's got you too? How long?” Scott asked, one palm on Alan's burning forehead.Alan screwed his eyes shut, and swallowed in anticipation of replying. Then realised he didn't actually know, so instead flopped into a lack luster shrug.“That bad huh?”Alan nodded.“Ok buddy, why don't we set you up with plaguey here?” He led Alan towards the seating area, nodding his thanks to Brains. “Hey V, think you can spare some blanket?” there was only a growl in response. Scott kicked the blankets with moderate force around the approximate shin area. “Alan got the flu.” There was some shuffling and then a layer of blanket unwrapped itself from the main bulk and was flung across the next seat.Scott parked Alan in the spare space and tucked him forcefully into place with the blanket.“There,” he said, standing back and surveying his work. “Have you eaten?” A shake of Alan's head. “Would you like some soup?” A tiny nod. A little less enthusiastic than he had expected, Scott raised an eyebrow. Then inspiration struck. “With toast?” He asked, and the excited nod was nearly enough to dislodge the tightly drawn hood from Alan's head.Scott laughed, “well it's a shame someone set the toaster on fire, isn't it?” Alan looked so crestfallen, that Scott laughed again and ruffled Alan's visible tuft of hair.“Don't worry bud, I'll sort something.” As he turned to head towards the kitchen, determined to toast bread over ‘Ones exhausts if he had to, a call came through from Thunderbird 5, voice only.“Hey John, are we needed? Alan's down with the flu now, but me kayo and Gordon are still operational” A flicker and then the video feed connected. John stood, or rather floated before Scott, plastered head to toe in a lumpy orangey liquid blobs of it floating around him. His arms were folded and if zero gravity could allow it he would have been tapping his foot just like their mother used to.“John! What's happened, are you ok?!” He certainly had all of Scott's attention now.“Who sent me a soup bomb?.” He asked, voice icey cold.Scott was speechless, mouth hanging open uselessly.“..because, so help me, if this is Gordon's idea of a joke..” John growled.Behind him, Scott heard Alan suck in a startled breath and instantly start violently coughing again. Scott put two and two together with the speed perfected over years of pin pointing brotherly guilt. It also helped that he knew exactly where Gordon had been for the last 5 hours, because he had been receiving a steady stream of rockpool photos all morning.“Alan, do you have anything you’d like to say?” Scott turned ever so slowly on his heels until he was facing his baby brother. Virgil had stuck one arm out from his blankets to rub Alans back gently as the youngest finally got his breathing back under control.He looked such a sorry sight, clammy and pale, and a sorrowful expression pulling him down even further.“ was Moms ‘oup,” he mumbled out, his nose starting to run after all the coughing. A kleenex manifested itself out of the burrito, Scott didn’t want to know what else Virgil was hoarding in there. Alan blew his nose noisily, and Scott tried his best not to physically recoil from the disgusting sound. “Din wan you to ‘iss out,” Alan continued through the sodden tissue.Johns posture softened instantly, it would have had to have been a heart of stone that didn’t.“Oh Alan, that's really thoughtful…umm,”Scott jumped in to save the floundering spaceman, he could tell that John was trying really hard to suppress the lecture he had been all ready to give, and the calculations of how long this was going to take to clean up safely were almost visible behind his eyes. “So John, what do you say I come and pick you up in ‘Three, and we let some of the cleaning drones have a first pass at the clean up? I’m sure Brains said he had some updates he was waiting for an opportunity to test out.”John distractedly batted a globule of soup away from the holocamera. “Yeah…..yeah, please.” A cleaning bot floated past his head, causing him to duck and float out of camera range.“I’ll launch now,” Scott jogged to the launch seats, and gave Alan a little salute as he descended. “No toast until I get back!” he shouted back up to the two invalids.-------------------Gordon had no idea why he was being made to sit through a powerpoint presentation on the dangers of loose liquids in zero gravity that afternoon, but since there seemed to be a never ending supply of toast being supplied, he decided to just accept it as the price one has to pay for snacks. That or Scott was using it as an excuse to not sit through Johns powerpoint. Beside him Alan and Virgil were snoring in tandem.